


Plaster Diamonds, Silver Linings

by orphan_account



Category: Doraemon (Manga)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-02 23:20:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2829680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tamako felt as though everything were crumbling around her, and she didn't deserve it. But just when Tamako wanted it least, Mrs. Honekawa came with something she needed most. Knowing of the cloud's silver linings was fine; Tamako, however, was more interested in the string of diamonds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plaster Diamonds, Silver Linings

**Author's Note:**

> I am mom-shipping trash. I just love both Mrs. Nobi and Mrs. Honekawa, but Mrs. Honekawa especially is like, my one true love. Anyway, my best friend helped me with a problem here. Because this story is from Tamako's perspective, it would be clunky to constantly refer to Mrs. Honekawa as such. Therefore, my best friend presented a solution: give Mrs. Honekawa a first name, and "Sadako" was our favorite. 
> 
> So, throughout the duration of this story, Mrs. Honekawa will be referred to as "Sadako." Much simpler than saying "Mrs. Honekawa" so often!

If Tamako saw _one_ more limp, soggy, blackened sock ripening on the edge of a step in the stairwell, she would personally fetch a pair of salad tongs, remove the sock, and jam it forcefully down Nobita's throat. She was utterly tired of breezing through the hall and slamming into a wall of stank that was just as sharp as vinegar and almost cheesy.

For a reason she could not explain, a tidal wave of fury swirled through her. She swelled up onto her tiptoes and grabbed at the stairway railing for support, and sagged forward with a shaky sigh. She locked her fingers stiff and shoved them into her hair to scrape back her sweaty bangs.

 _All right,_ she thought resolutely. She squared her shoulders. _I'm going to go upstairs and kindly tell Nobi to scrape his disgusting sock off the steps before it crawls across Tokyo. And, like a good little angel, he will smile at me, say "Of course, Mommy, anything you want!" and he will then prance away to get rid of the sock. And then, puppies will fall from the sky and the Honekawas will be living in a refrigerator box tomorrow._

Tamako breathed a deep sigh through her nose and began her slow ascent up the stairs. Each step creaked under her weight and snapped like a gunshot when she moved her stockinged foot. The rage that toiled through her made her thoughts darken, and she suddenly felt the need to begin another strict dieting regime.

After mounting the top step, she hooked a left and stormed into Nobita's room. Her palm slammed against his door, shoving it open.

"Nobita!"

Nobita launched from his blankets and howled as though he had been doused with a gallon of ice water. He landed solidly in the midst of the rumpled covers and flailed about before scrambling upright. He glanced around wildly, his glasses fogging up with his shallow breaths. At last, he cast a slow and beseeching glance toward Tamako. A placating smile peeled over his face.

"Hi, Mom. I didn't see you there. Have you been here long? Um, I was just tired, because I, uh . . . had a lot of homework. Yeah." Nobita raised his arms above his head, twisted his fingers together, and threw his back into a stretch. His jaw cracked with a dramatic yawn.

"Nobi _ta._ "

Nobita's mouth froze in a gigantic circle around the yawn, and his arms tensed. Tamako glimpsed the spark of terror in his eyes, such as one might find in the beady eyes of a squirrel framed in the headlights of an eighteen-wheeler on the expressway. She crossed her arms, tightened her knees until she stood straight as a fencepost, and glared down at Nobita with the air of an empress awaiting a loyal subject to lick her sandals. Nobita's gulping swallow sounded like a toad in the silence.

"Nobi, sweetheart, do you recall my saying anything about laundry? Dirty laundry, in particular, and where that dirty laundry is supposed to go?"

Tamako tapped her foot expectantly against the carpet. Nobita stared at her foot, pondering, his face screwed up in a parody of concentration. Tamako distinctly felt that she could smell the smoke from his mental cogs grinding, along with the pungent odor of molding socks.

Finally, Nobita scrubbed at his hair, mashing it over his forehead. He grinned sheepishly.

"I think I know, but could you maybe remind me so I could––"

"No-bi- _ta!_ "

Nobita shifted into third gear, his arms windmilling. He scrambled on all fours halfway across the room before his engine started, and he jerked up to tear down the hall and clatter down the stairs.

Tamako pressed her elbow against the door frame to prop herself up, panting to recover the breath wasted by shouting. Nobita's agitated babbling floated from the bottom of the stairway. From downstairs, the front door slammed and rattled. She heard Nobisuke plodding about in the kitchen, banging drawers and slamming shut cupboards.

"Honey! A few of the guys from work are stopping by in a bit. Do we have any chai tea or biscuits? Honey?"

"Mommy!" Nobita's forlorn voice carried like the howl of a lingering breeze. "Do socks go in the red basket or the hamper?"

"Hon-ey! Will you come here for a second?"

" _Mommy!_ "

All at once, Tamako felt as though she had been belted in the gut by a ham-sized fist. Firecrackers exploded in her temples, and her pulse hammered in her throat. She crumpled against the wall, slid off her glasses, squinted, and fumbled for the hem of her apron. She faltered as she wiped the lenses.

"It's okay," she said aloud, sucking in a deep breath. "It's okay, it's fine. Just take everything one at a time."

Frazzled and feeling like a ragdoll tugged between two angry girls, Tamako pushed her glasses back onto her nose and swiftly turned to tend the chaos erupting downstairs. A new resoluteness cut through her panic, and she marched squarely down the stairs.

Pausing at the laundry cubicle, she jabbed her finger at Nobita, who crouched among the baskets with the oozing sock in hand, looking as lost as if he had just been deposited in the midst of a desert.

"Whites," she said. "Socks, underclothes." She pointed at a wicker basket in the corner. "Put them there and you remember that."

She swerved away and surged into the kitchen, clenching her fists by her side to quell the urge to deck Nobisuke. She cut into his path and slammed a cabinet door so loudly that the windowpanes rattled as though in an earthquake.

"Tea's in the canister beside the flour," she said. Her shoulders were so drawn up that they made her apron strings bite into her underarms. Nobisuke watched her jerk at her sleeve before she bustled around the kitchen, shutting doors and clanging drawer handles. He spectated in utter confusion, agape and slightly nervous. He hooked his finger over his collar and lifted it away from his neck.

"Um, you know, sweetheart, I don't think the fellas will be here all that long. We don't really need anything to eat, now that I think of it."

Tamako stiffened like a flagpole, a slow wave of motion pulling her to her full height. She froze a moment, her fist knotted over a doorknob. As though in slow-motion, she flexed her fingers, yanked them away in a violent yet controlled sort of way, and faced Nobisuke. The flickering light from the bare overhead bulb angled in prisms from Tamako's glasses. Nobisuke helped himself to a few steps backwards.

"Do you think I'm just––just made of time?" Tamako's arm lashed out. Catching herself, she snapped her fingers in a fist and reeled it back against her thigh.

"Look, if you don't actually need me for something, don't go hurricaning around yelling like you're needing an ambulance straightway. I have Nobita to deal with, and Lord knows what else. I have laundry to wash, floors to sweep, bills to organize, rugs to beat; I don't have _time_ to cater, Nobisuke. I have to––"

Bewildered by this unanticipated harangue, Nobisuke glanced around as if seeking escape, and leaned his head to one side before squinting at the ceiling.

"Well, how about that?" he said quietly, then louder: "I'm sorry, honey, but I hear someone out in the yard right now. I'll be in later. Love you." The last words faded as Nobisuke shot through the door, closing it behind him as though doing so would prevent Tamako from hauling him back inside.

Tamako ground her teeth, digging her nails into her palms to direct her attention elsewhere than the fact that she would find a ridiculous amount of relief in screaming until her lungs collapsed like deflated balloons. Inhaling sharply, and regretting doing so once the tart smell of old socks funneled into her chest, Tamako rushed from the kitchen and back to the laundry room and nearly broke an ankle over Nobita.

He sat in a little lump just in front of the threshold, still dangling the decaying sock between his fingers. He inspected it intently, as though seeing it for the first time.

"Hey, Mommy?" Nobita said. "What's this on my sock? It's kind of fuzzy looking and––"

Tamako wanted nothing more than to thrust her fingers into her hair and tear out every frowzy clump. Her stomach twisted as she plucked the sock from Nobita's hand and dropped it into the wastebasket.

Nobita shrank back under Tamako's penetrating glare, hitching up his shoulders and sneaking his arms behind his back.

"Um, I think I should go outside," Nobita said, looking everywhere except Tamako's hard eyes. "Uh . . . Suneo and I were going to . . . I mean, we planned on . . . I'm going to go."

Tamako said nothing. Nobita hastily retreated.

Wearily, Tamako dragged herself to the dryer to clunk her elbows upon the top and slump until her forehead pressed against the icy metal. The cold was soothing against her burning face.

"Finally," she said, her voice muffled against the dryer. "An empty house." She sighed and turned her head until her cheek squished against the dryer top. The gentle thumping of wadded clothes in the washing machine bumped to a halt, and the canister stopped spinning with a creak and a groan. Tamako related.

The quiet of the house began to settle pleasantly, like the fresh sheets thrown over a bed that gently billow in wrinkles over the mattress. The purr of the icebox and the tinny rattle of the air conditioner boxed in the window mixed in a grumbly sort of song that was timed by the hollow ticking of the clock.

The pain in Tamako's stomach subsided, and she found that she could stand straight without her shoulders aching. Enveloped in the calming ambiance of the house, she almost began to relax. One by one, her vertebrae unlocked, and the tension melted away like hot butter. With new determination, she knelt, lifted a basket and fit it against her hip, and began a leisurely stroll through the house in search of any more laundry in the same process of escape as the sock.

She had barely ducked out of the room when a sharp knock broke the silence. Tamako jolted, her knees tightening and her fingers gripping the edge of the basket hard enough to warp it.

_If that's one of Nobisuke's friends looking for something to eat, or Nobita crying about that little fluke Suneo, I'm going to––_

Tamako couldn't finish the thought through the barrage of light tapping knocks that were both prim and insistent. She scraped back her bangs, blew a gust of air into her cheeks, and stormed to the door. She wrenched the knob and flung the door open, nearly tearing it off its hinges.

"What do you wa––" The thundering shout promptly died in the pit of her throat, and Tamako felt about six inches tall. She grinned, pressed her hand to her mouth and cleared her throat with a delicate little cough.

"Oh, hello, Sadako. How nice of you to stop by and visit, and on such a perfect day, too!"

Sadako Honekawa stood framed in the doorway, her sharp face looking more like a mask of terror than anything. Her bewildered gaze roved the area behind Tamako, as though she expected to see the rubble of a battle scene, then drifted back to survey Tamako. Tamako realized too late how she must have looked: her hair a wispy, frowzy nest, her eyes narrowed, her face blotchy, her clothes wrinkled and her apron stained with cleaners.

Slowly, one side of Sadako's mouth hitched up in her self-satisfied smile.

"Busy day, darling?" she said breezily, stepping past Tamako in a haze of French perfume and snobbery. Tamako tentatively sniffed, and found that the overpowering scent of jasmine, bergamot and lime was more tolerable than that of mildewed socks. She stared after Sadako, who bent by the doormat in front of the ledge to toe off her shoes. The patent leather pumps made Tamako's clunky wedges look as refined as wooden clogs.

"What brought you here all of a sudden?" Tamako said, struggling to keep her voice polite and cheery. _Wouldn't I absolutely love to know. The last person I want to see is Mrs. Moneybags. All I'd like to do right now is fall into bed and sleep for a week, not entertain someone with pockets deeper than the Mariana Trench._

Sadako turned, and the diamonds that dripped in sparkling icicles from her earlobes caught the light and sent bits of rainbows scattering through the room. Her foxy smile made Tamako's fingers itch.

"Why, darling, I only wanted to visit. I thought perhaps we could set some Earl Grey on to boil and have a little chat. My Suneo is out playing with your Nobita, so I thought this would be the perfect time for us to have a quiet, relaxing visit. Wouldn't you agree?"

 _Oh, wouldn't I._ _I'm poor, not stupid. It doesn't take a genius to catch onto the fact that the only time you make unexpected calls is when you bought something new to show off._ Tamako beamed, reached out to cup one hand over Sadako's back, and guided her into the kitchen.

"Now you just sit tight while I fix the tea," she said, directing Sadako to the _chabudai_ table _._ Slightly uneasy, Sadako sank to kneel on the threadbare cushion and rested her palms on her knees. Tamako felt Sadako watching her as she bustled around the kitchen. She fumbled to grab a kettle and filled it at the sink. The hard tap water gurgled and frothed against the rusted bottom of the kettle.

"Tamako, dear," said Sadako, "you seem horrifically tired. Is everything okay?"

Tamako banged the kettle onto the stove. "I'm perfectly fine. Everything's fine." Then, reflecting on how curt the words were, she added, "Really, it's okay. I've just had a lot of things to do lately." She paused. "You?"

Pleased by the turn in conversation, Sadako shifted on the cushion and drew herself up straighter. Her bangle bracelets jangled softly. "I'm doing di _vine_ , darling," she said in her gushy way, "abso _lute_ ly divine. Daddy brought in Makoto Fuji for an interview yesterday; you know Miss Fuji, yes? She's such an adorable actress, and my little Suneo has been wanting to meet her for ever so long. And afterwords we took a trip outside of town to this new sushi restaurant that just opened. And tomorrow, we're scheduled for a meeting with some business tycoons, and if we're lucky, we'll be able to make some compromises."

She lifted her shoulders, tilted her head until her cloud of red curls sifted over her forehead, and laughed quietly. "Sometimes it just seems like everything just goes exactly the way it should, doesn't it?"

Tamako clutched her fists so tightly that her knuckles turned white. _Sure, life is a breeze, isn't it. An absolute breeze, especially when you have everything a person could possibly want._

"Yes," she said, "it really does." The conversation lulled, and Tamako busied herself with measuring out ground tea mixture while Sadako idly gazed at the cracks that webbed across the ceiling.

When the tea had steeped and sent a weak but pleasant aroma filtering through the room, Tamako poured two tumblers full and returned to the table. She clacked a cup in front of Sadako, and pale tea sloshed over the rim. Sadako stared, her smile hanging in place.

"Th––thank you, dear," she said, tentatively accepting the cup. She raised it to her lips, breathed in the languishing steam, and lowered it without taking a sip. Her eyes, though tightly squinted, were piercing.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

Tamako forced a laugh, but it sounded brittle, as though it could break into a sob at any provocation. She pressed the rim of the cup against her lips and took an unladylike gulp of her tea to wash down the bulge in her throat.

"Sure, sure," she said when she swallowed and her voice cleared. "But, here, tell me about what else you've done this week. Have you gone shopping lately?" She gritted her teeth. She hated even encouraging such a topic, as Sadako could comfortably sit in the same position for hours on end to discuss in great detail all the stores through which she had browsed and all the new trinkets and appliances and clothes she had bought.

 _But,_ Tamako mused, _listening to a story about the mall is better than getting grilled to the third degree._

At the opportunity to launch into an animated conversation about her shopping endeavors, Sadako brightened, the creases between her eyebrows smoothing. She bent forward at the waist so quickly she nearly snapped in two, and she spread her arms and splayed her hands dramatically. Her smile lit the room with all the brightness and cheer of Christmas.

"Oh, I'm _so_ glad you asked," she said, "because I actually went shopping yesterday, and you would not be _lieve_ what I found!"

Tamako nodded politely. She swirled her tea in the cup, unable to look at Sadako for fear she would become engaged in a wrestling match against the urge to corkscrew her fist through her teeth.

"Look at this," Sadako said, leaning closer. She tilted her head, arched her fingers to press them against her chest, and moved her shoulders. Around her neck hung a chain of diamonds so clear they appeared to be to be new ice. Their chiseled facets reflected the lights in pastel rainbows, glittering and sparkling against Sadako's throat as she breathed. The intricate weaves of smaller diamonds snaked around Sadako's neck and draped down her chest like a glimmering stream.

Tamako stared, her nose inches from Sadako's chest. She swallowed, and focused on ignoring the distinct feeling that her heart was being crushed under an anvil. With a trembling hand, she reached out to lightly touch the quarter-sized diamond that was encrusted in the middle of the necklace. Sadako started at the feather-light touch, but hastily recovered and inhaled to bring her chest closer to Tamako's fingers. Slowly, Tamako traced the chain of diamonds over and over, as if lost in a trance.

"Well?" Sadako said. "What do you think of it?"

Tamako's lips moved before the words managed to squeeze past the lump in her throat. "It's . . . it's lovely, Sadako."

Somehow, she couldn't convince herself to deliver a jibe or an insult; to remark, "what a piece of trash," or "are you seriously proud of that hunk of cheap costume jewelry?" She had never been able to compliment Sadako without contending against the pangs of envy, but now, the jealously nearly churned her heart into a boiling mush. Yet strangely, in the midst of the jealousy, there lingered a sad trace of remorse.

Sadako leaned back, sitting on her heels. Her eyes widened into saucers before squinting, as though she had doubts that the woman slouched in front of her really was Tamako Nobi.

"Did you . . . honey, are you really . . . I mean, how are you? How are you _really_?"

The question was simple. Direct and straightforward, as Sadako often was. But Tamako felt as though the question was a fist piling into her stomach, and instantly she reached up to curl her fingers against her collarbone.

"I'm––I'm fine," Tamako said. _Yes, Sadako. I'm fine. There are bills stacking up, the house is a pigsty, Nobita's grades are dropping, I'm wearing to a thread, and here you are shoving your five-pound diamonds in my face. I'm fine, perfectly fine._

Oblivious to the thoughts that raged in a tempest through Tamako's mind, Sadako cocked her head with a slow and sympathetic frown. She slid her palms awkwardly along her thighs, smoothing the wrinkles from her tight slacks.

Tamako felt as though she were choking on the tension. She stiffly pushed her hands under the table, grasped the hem of her skirt, and tugged it with measured ferocity over her knees. She found herself imagining that the nylon stretching between her fingers was Sadako's spotless, starched blouse. She caught herself, and tucked her hands under her backside to sit on them.

The table jarred without warning, sending tea sloshing out of the tumblers and making Tamako's ribs rattle. She looked up through her lopsided glasses to see Sadako standing up, her hands flat on the table for balance.

A sudden tide of guilt swept through Tamako, but before she could blurt an apology, Sadako's determined, sharp gaze pinned her. Without looking away, Sadako raised her arms, dipped her hands down the back of her blouse collar, and fumbled. The dull _click_ of a metal lobster hook unfastening sounded like an explosion in the quiet. As delicately as a cat, she extended her hand toward Tamako. From her fingers dangled the heavy chain of glittering, glistening diamonds.

Tamako stared down her nose at the necklace as though it were a writhing worm. The side of her mouth hiked up in a sneer.

"What are you doing? I saw it already, you don't have to––" Sadako thrust the necklace at her, nearly shoving it down her throat.

"You were right," Sadako said with a dainty sniff, throwing back her head in a parody of persnickety pride. "This really isn't anything but a cheap piece of plaster. Diamonds, really? They aren't anything more than glass beads, and shoddily cut, may I add. I wouldn't be caught _dead_ parading this thing around town. In fact," she said, unfurling her fingers to let the necklace drop in front of Tamako, "I think such a cheap, gaudy garage-sale piece would look perfect on someone like you."

Tamako felt as though her blood congealed in her veins. Her fingers numbed, and her lungs tightened. Her throat clogged. Her eyes narrowed into pools of misery until the necklace coiled on the table blurred into a glistening smear. The rainbow flecks from the diamonds faded and grew into pale sequins.

"You . . . Sadako, you aren't––you aren't giving me this, are you?" The words barely came. Tamako swallowed back the lump that felt like a tennis ball lodged in her throat. "Sadako, this is . . . ."

Sadako held up her hand solemnly, her eyes fluttering shut as though she were preparing to take an oath. "Don't think anything of it, darling. You're doing me a favor, really. I was just going to throw that hideous thing out when I got home, but you saved me the trouble."

Tamako's wet gaze remained fixed on the necklace. She pressed her forearm against her face, and with a stifled sniffle sawed her arm over her eyes to scrub the water away. Her glasses settled crookedly on her nose.

Sadako's expression tightened, her eyebrows angling in a wince. "Oh, honey," she said as though Tamako had done something disagreeable. Tamako felt her face burning, tingling, and knew that her cheeks were flaming red as a neon sign, crisscrossed with veins like a roadmap.

"Sadako," Tamako said, her voice a sludge. She ducked her head, her shoulders hardening and bouncing with suppressed sobs. "I never thought––I didn't expect you to ever––something so _nice_ ––oh, Sadako!"

Sadako fiddled with one earring, twisting the diamond droplet between her fingers. Her own face began to redden, making the spattering of freckles over her nose darker. Her eyes drooped halfway shut. Wordlessly, she padded behind Tamako, her steps noiseless, and reached down to retrieve the necklace. The diamonds clinked together in a hushed tinkling melody, like tiny windchimes stirred by a summer zephyr.

Sadako knelt behind Tamako. One cool, dry hand brushed against the back of Tamako's neck, making her lock her arms against a shiver. Sadako's fingers were as soft and cool as the satin scarves she often wore, and her touch was light as down. She smoothed aside the straggled chunks of Tamako's hair, reached forward, and draped the necklace around her throat. Her hands tickled Tamako's neck as she fastened the clasp. The necklace hung down Tamako's chest, soothingly heavy and ice-cold.

Tamako glanced down, and her breath lumped behind her tongue. The loop of diamonds, woven in links and glimmery as gossamer, was solid and cool and _real._ Dazed, Tamako brought her hand to touch the necklace. No piece of fake jewelry, no glass crystals, no colored beads, no matter how artfully crafted, could compare to the radiance and weight and pride of diamonds.

Sadako stepped away, curling one finger under her chin to critically survey Tamako.

"I knew it," she said at last. "It really does fit you. Just as tacky and cheap as some of the other things I've seen you wear, so don't worry, dear, it won't be out of place in your wardrobe."

At that moment, Tamako felt that nothing known to mankind could dissolve her sudden rush of adoration for Sadako. _Break down the washing machine, throw out the television, elope with Nobisuke or drop Nobita in a ditch; I'd forgive you for it._

All her previous harbored malice evaporated without leaving a trace of guilt. In one swift move, Tamako stood, closed up the space between her and Sadako in two strides, and flung her arms around Sadako's middle. It didn't matter if she wrinkled Sadako's blouse, mussed her hair, or smeared her shoulder with tears––at that moment, all she wanted was to hug Sadako close, and pray that the gratitude in her heart that couldn't be expressed would somehow seep through her chest and warm Sadako's.

She breathed deeply. Her cheek rested on Sadako's shoulder, and her hands lay in lightly balled fists against the slope of Sadako's back. Sadako's fluffy red curls tickled against Tamako's nose, and her sultry scent of bergamot and jasmine filled Tamako's head. Impulsively, Tamako folded her arms more tightly around Sadako, squeezing her closer and burying her nose in her shoulder until Sadako gave a yelp of surprise. Tamako could feel the faster thumping of Sadako's heart, and heard her sharp little intake of breath.

"Oh, dear," Sadako said, her voice a shallow puff of breath. "Really, now." She cleared her throat, tensed, and awkwardly slid her arms around Tamako to give her back a couple of brisk pats. "Don't thank me for that, honestly. In fact, don't ever mention any of this again, and we'll pretend that it didn't happen at all. How does that sound, hmm?"

Suddenly embarrassed, Tamako leaned back. She drew her hands back and clumsily began smoothing her stiff, sticky bangs from her cheeks. Once she gained courage enough to glance up, she realized that Sadako was staring at her with a rueful, sympathetic sort of grin.

"It's fine, love," she said with a shrug that ruffled her curls and jangled her earrings. "Don't you worry about a thing, now. Not everything is so bad, you see," she added. "When you're having a hard time of things, simply _tell_ me about it. There's a little silver in everything, remember? And besides, it never hurts to _talk._ "

Tamako looked down at the necklace, heat rushing into her face and stinging her eyes. The frown that pulled at her lips faded like a ghost at dawn as she brushed her knuckle over the cool, bumpy links of diamonds. A contented sort of shiver rocked her onto her tiptoes, nearly knocking her over the table. Her cheeks tightened in a giddy, silly smile.

She glanced up at the sound of a tinkling giggle, and her breath hitched when she saw Sadako's composure slip like a loose mask. For the briefest moment, the maintained expression of calm, controlled reservation faltered, and Sadako grinned with all the excited unbridled glee of a child.

Tamako lowered her head to hide how her own grin stretched further, nearly splitting her face.

 _You're right, Sadako. There really, truly_ is _a little silver in everything. Or, in some cases,_ she thought, rather smugly, _a two-pound cable of fifty-carat diamonds._

She sighed happily.


End file.
